Yesterday
by moodiful819
Summary: She met him years ago. She was married now, but she could remember him like it was yesterday... [my first Hanakimi story. Reviews are encouraged.]
1. Prologue

A plot bunny that just hit me, and since my computer is working now, this is to celebrate that fact. It's not up to snuff yet, so my Naruto fandom fans will have to wait a bit longer as I try to reinstall the programs that made my computer happy. Here's my first attempt at an anime fandom that isn't Naruto. It's my first attempt at a vignette format, so tell me what you think.

Edit: I've changed my OC's age. She is now in her twenties, not thirties like before because I just realized how warped the stream of time would be. Heh heh.

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Prologue

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Rain beat steadily around her as she stood on her doorstep, keys in hand as she prepared to open the door. Grazing her fingers over the metal, she could feel every groove the locksmith made through her glove, causing a small smile to grace her ruby lips before shoving the key into its lock, turning it, and opening the door.

The first thing that crossed her mind was how dark it was, save for the thin streams of muted light coming from the world behind her. Briefly, she flicked on the light to ensure she wouldn't trip over herself as she removed her shoes before crossing into the living room and opening the blinds with a contented sigh.

She turned on the television on the wall and fell onto a couch, her cream-colored clothing contrasting sharply with the red and gold threads that made her furniture.

The woman flicked her gaze up to look at the television before scowling at the image. A woman in her late twenties with lightly curled raven hair that framed her face, dark brown eyes, and ruby lips from her lipstick. Her clothing suggested grandeur and a lavish lifestyle. She wrinkled her nose and changed the channel to see the next channel and the ones that followed showing the same woman. Knitting her brows, she shut off the television with a scoff. As if she didn't already know what she looked like.

Propping her elbow on the carved wooden armrest of her chair, she turned her wrist to show her watch.

'_They should be arriving soon,'_ she thought to herself when the doorbell rang as if on cue. _'Right on time,'_ she told herself as she tugged the collar of her faux-fur jacket closer. This year's fall was unusually cold; the rain didn't help either.

Crossing across the plush ornate carpet, she headed towards the hallway and unlocked the door. There, on her porch was a man, no older than 29 with short, layered black hair and glasses, a messenger bag in his hand. Behind him was a man roughly her own age with a T-shirt, goatee and mustache, and long black hair kept in a ponytail stuffed under a baseball cap, a video camera in his hand.

"Konnichiwa, Nagasaki-san," the man in glasses greeted, the camera man giving a polite nod.

"Konnichiwa," she replied. "Come in; make yourselves comfortable while I put on some tea." The two men nodded and went to her living room as she went into the kitchen. When she came back, she saw the man in the baseball cap setting up lights as his companion sat politely on the couch beside the chair facing the window.

"Those lights will be unnecessary," she said and the camera man looked up, startled, before nodding and moving them away as she sat the tea on the coffee table and opened the curtains more.

"Sorry," she said as she opened her coat, revealing the red turtleneck and black pants she wore beneath her coat. She handed the man with the glasses a cup. "I thought we agreed no cameras."

The man looked up startled. "Oh, it's to make sure that I don't miss anything. We just need it to fill in anything I might have missed in the interview. We will burn the video later," he reassured, and she nodded before reclining back in her chair.

"Very well…um…"

"O-oh! My name is Doi Akihiro, and the man over there is Bando Daisuke," he said with a bow of his head. She smiled politely. "And I'm"—

"Oh! We know all about you, Nagasaki-san."

She chuckled amusedly. "I imagine you do, but please, call me Atsuko." The man looked at her unsure before finally giving in. Once she had gotten her way, she sipped her tea and a silence stretched between them. The man fidgeted awkwardly.

"I…I'm deeply sorry for your loss, Atsuko-san. To lose your husband…"

"Oh, it's fine," she said dismissively. Akihiro looked at her in shock. "But…didn't you love your husband?"

"Of course, but people die all the time. It's the truth of the world. There's nothing that can be changed about that. _He_ told me that himself," she said with another sip of her tea.

Akihiro brightened up a bit, despite his interviewee being a bit eccentric. "Oh, you mean your late husband?"

Atsuko chuckled and stared out the window, drinking in the scenery as a wistful smile crossed her lips.

"_No. My first love..." _


	2. Chapter 1

_Last chapter:_

"_Of course, but people die all the time. It's the truth of the world. There's nothing that can be changed about that. He told me that himself," she said with another sip of her tea._

_Akihiro brightened up a bit, despite his interviewee being a bit eccentric. "Oh, you mean your late husband?"_

_Atsuko chuckled and stared out the window, drinking in the scenery as a wistful smile crossed her lips._

"_No. My first love..." _

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Chapter 1

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She could still remember it like it was yesterday. She was a senior in college then; a girl with a fate to be carved out by the toil of her own two hands. Only problem was that she had no real clue of what she wanted to do with her life besides find a job. She clutched her books closer to her chest.

It was fall and the rain dripped off the colored leaves outside the window as she watched in the hallway, entranced by a world she did not belong in, but wanted to. Leaves didn't have to worry about finding a job. She did.

And suddenly, a crash sent her and her books spilling onto the cold tile floor and into the muted light from the window. Turning her head, she watched as a man with muscles at least two times larger than hers scoff and mutter about how crazy broads shouldn't stand in hallways or have the courtesy to at least move to the side as he carried a cushioned chair through the halls. She dusted off her brown turtleneck. He could've asked her to move, right? Then again, had she been listening at all?

Standing (or at least, that's what she commanded her body to do), she managed to get herself into a kneeling position. Not exactly standing, but whatever.

Looking around, she half-sighed, half-growled as she took in the carnage her textbooks were in. All her notes had flown out and she suddenly felt a prickling sensation in her eyes. She was crying? That was wonderful. As if her day wasn't bad enough, but then again, she always was quick to cry.

With a slightly exasperated sigh, she began crawling around on the floor to pick up her things, stopping every once in a while to push up the sliding frames of her glasses. Sure, she was dirtying the black skirt she had just gotten, but who cared? It was just clothing.

Hugging her books to her chest, she reached forward to grab her last book when something beat her to it. Something with long pale fingers. _Someone_ with long pale fingers. She looked up.

"Here," they told her and she took in their face while her fingers reached up to curl around the offered spine. He was tall—taller than her with reddish-brown (or was it brownish-red?) hair and glasses, but he didn't carry the librarian vibe she did. He was different—darker, dangerous, but maybe it was because she was so plain that even fruit-flavored yogurt would seem exciting to her.

"Thank you," she said softly and he acknowledged it with a nod. As she slowly stood, her boots making a slight clack on the tile floor and the ends of her messy bun brushing against her neck, she watched him walk away, his hands in his pockets with the smell of cigarettes and cologne wafting gently behind him.

That was the first time she met him.

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**As you can see, the chapters are relatively short since it's a fic that delves into the past. Also because I'm a first-time Hanakimi writer with no idea of where this is actually going and my fingers are frozen solid. I would appreciate at least one review for this fic. Please? For Christmas?**


	3. Chapter 2

Thank you to the people who reviewed and all the people who are reading this. You make me exceptionally happy.

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Chapter 2

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Leaves drifted aimlessly from their strong branches to litter the floor. Pretty soon, it'd be winter and snow would be falling instead of the leaves. A tap on the shoulder brought her back to the classroom and she looked at the piece of paper between her fingers.

"A project?" she asked the girl who handed her the paper. The teacher didn't expect much from her. Even if she was smart, it wasn't genius and she certainly wasn't much in their eyes except as the girl with potential and nowhere to go. It didn't surprise her. A lot of students already knew where they were going. She didn't. The girl smiled down at her.

"It's a group project. If you don't mind me asking, would you like to join my group?" the girl asked. If she remembered correctly, the girl was Tanabe Kanako. The teachers adored her and many of the other students as well. Why the hell was she talking to a plain-Jane like her? Atsuko blinked in surprise.

"It's fine, but who else will join the group besides the two of us?"

"Well, we need five people. With you, we have four. I'll just ask my friend from the other class period to join our group if he hasn't already gotten nabbed," she said with a giggle. Atsuko merely nodded, watching as the girl walked back to her desk near the front before sighing and cleaning her glasses.

After the initial invitation, she had gotten a phone call from Kanako saying her friend had accepted and to meet her at the school gates so they could go plan somewhere. Though she had to wonder why they couldn't just do it in the library (it was a history class, after all), she had gone to the gates like she'd been asked, and of course, she'd been early. Shutting her eyes, she listened to the sounds of the cars driving past. The sound of fast-approaching heels brought her away.

"Ijiri-san!" Kanako cried out as her chestnut locks batted at her face. The heels of her boots clacked as she ran and against her side, her purse knocked against her hip.

"Tanabe-san," she greeted with a small polite bow and when she raised her head, the faint scent of cigarettes and cologne captured her senses. Raising her eyes up, she noticed reddish-brown tendrils floating on the wind, and when she lowered her gaze to the lighter in his hands, a cigarette dangling from his lips, she knew it was him.


End file.
